The Dragon Sailor Chronicles
by BryceWrites
Summary: The Dragon Mother has long been without company when she stumbles across an injured sailor in her forest. In another world in the distant future, a housekeeper helps a Captain in the Royal Marines remember what love is all about. AU OUAT.
1. An Explanation of My 'Verse

So this is a basic kind of run down of how the OUAT 'verse is working through in my head;

When the first curse was cast, every one in the Enchanted Forest was transported to a little town in Maine; Storybrooke. Killian lost his hand because of Rumpelstiltskin, but he didn't seek revenge, accepting his fate. I'm gonna just cut Season 2 out of the mix except for the part about Henry being kidnapped to Neverland by Greg and Tamara. I'm replacing Zelena with Cora in Season 3. But, because Hook hadn't meant to be in the Enchanted Forest when the curse hit the first time, he hasn't been there the entire time, like everyone else has been. So when Hook 'moves to town', it's his false memories. The curse just worked different on him because of where (or what) he was . I also thought of this as to why his name didn't change. I'm going to assume Henry's story book only ever references him as Captain Hook instead of by his name, Killian Jones. My story all starts the day Emma decides to stay and things start changing.

I'm not working on the exact timeline of Storybrooke/The Enchanted Forest in line with the episodes, although I'm definitely incorporating major (to me) plot points. Also, I haven't seen Season 4 yet. I can only see what's on Netflix, so anything after the season finale, I'm totally winging it. So don't be commenting about how this or that happened in season 4. I haven't seen it, I literally have no idea.

I think that covers everything? But if you have any questions about something, please feel free to ask and I'll answer them as best as I can.


	2. Chapter 1

_Storybrooke_

I sighed heavily, falling into my little red car. I pulled on my seatbelt and headed for home. The drive was barely more than fifteen minutes, but it dragged on. It wasn't until I pulled into my driveway that I realized I hadn't turned the radio on. I usually couldn't drive without it.

Popping the trunk, I climbed out of the 1999 Cougar and retrieved my cleaning supplies. This consisted of a bucket of clean wash rags, a bucket of dirty ones and my used mop. I closed the trunk and left everything outside while I unlocked the door. I carried everything into the laundry room, kicking the front door closed as I passed it.

A distinct purring noise could be heard and seconds later, Shadow came around the corner. She was all black from head to toe, without a speck of any other color. I knew most people were superstitious about black cats and it'd been one of the main reasons I'd picked her out from the shelter.

I scooped her up and roughly pet her for a moment before letting her out of my arms onto the dryer while I loaded the washing machine with the dirty rags and the gross mop head. I hit the button and the cat jumped down, rubbing up against my legs. I smiled down at her, scratching the top of her head again before digging in the fridge for something to eat.

Left over pasta and broccoli was the only thing that sounded remotely good, so it was sent to the microwave while I headed for the bedroom to change. Once I'd crawled out of my cleaning clothes and into something so holey and too large, I'd never wear into public, I removed the dish from the microwave and plopped onto the couch.

Shadow jumped onto the couch and cuddled up next to me. I scratched her every two or three bites, watching the news program that came on. The weather man told us about how we'd get a couple inches of rain in the next couple days to mellow out of the ridiculous heat wave we'd recently got.

When I finished the pasta, I put the dish on the coffee table and pulled my date book close. I had two cleanings tomorrow that took up most of the day and only one job at seven tomorrow night. I sighed. It wasn't looking good. Most of the week was devoid of work and I didn't want to think how I'd be paying my rent this month if I didn't get more calls for either of my painfully laborious jobs.

My cell phone rang and I jumped, not expecting any calls this evening. I stood up, picking the device up off the counter. "Hello?"

"Uh, yes. Hello. I'm looking for Jamie Winston?" The deep voice on the other line said.

He was obviously calling for my cleaning services, as nobody from my other job knew my real name, even if they knew my face. "This is her."

"Oh, excellent. I'm in desperate need of your services." He said and I hesitated, wondering if he really was calling about my other job.

"What can I do for you?" I asked.

"Well, you see. I've just moved all my things into my new house from out of state and I need a bit of help with it. I wasn't sure if you'd be willing to help a gent unpack for a price, or if you solely clean residences." He said in a strong tone he didn't have a moment ago. He also had a deep accent. I couldn't tell if it was British or Scottish, but it was definitely dreamy to hear.

"I don't usually help people unpack." I started, then paused. If he was willing to pay me, what the hell did it matter what I was doing to help him? "But I'm having a pretty slow week, so I could help with that I suppose. My rate is $15 an hour."

"To be completely honest with you," He said with a sigh and I didn't know what to expect next. "I've called five different outfits and you're the only one to say you'd even help with the task. I'll pay you however much as long as you'll assist my unpacking."

I smiled to myself a little as I reached for my date book and flipped to the back that had my client's information in it. "I'll need your name, a phone number I can reach you at during the day and your address."

"My name is Killian Jones, a pleasure. The number I rang you on is my most direct line and my address…" He trailed off and I could hear the sound of a screen door slam against the threshold. He stepped outside. Being new in town, he didn't even know his own address. "1389 Palmer Street. The side that faces the old metal barn."

I rolled my eyes. I knew he meant the old Cobb slaughterhouse but he didn't know any better. "Alright." I said, flipping through to the calendar. "I'm booked tomorrow, but I can be there bright and early Thursday morning, if you'd like."

He hesitated. "I'd prefer not too bright, nor early. I'm a bit of an evening person myself. Perhaps about nine or ten?"

I shook my head. This was definitely going to be an interesting client. "Ten on Thursday, just so I'm not too early for you."

"Thanks, love. I much appreciate it. I'll see you then." He said and the line died.

I put my phone back in my pocket, penciling him in. I paused, thinking about his voice. I couldn't remember ever being so caught by just a voice. I knew I wanted to meet him as soon as he started talking. I bit my lip. Work and pleasure don't mix. I'd learned that the hard way. I closed my date book and returned to snuggle with Shadow on the couch.

* * *

The next day was hell on wheels. Both of my cleaning clients ran late. I barely had enough time to run home and sprint through the shower before meeting my client at seven. I was nearly ten minutes late to the bar where we'd deemed our meet up location. The first introduction was always in a public place.

It didn't help because he'd slapped me right across the face. Jonny, the bartender, shooed the man from the establishment and I was in tears by the time I got home. It wasn't because he'd hit me; I didn't care about the pain or how my cheek was slowly turning a shade of crimson. I had lost a bunch of money by botching the evening with being late.

Shadow found me crying by the front door, in a messy pile of black dress and high heels. I hugged the cat tightly before moving into the bedroom. Sitting in front of the mirror, I bit my lip. The woman staring back at me wasn't Jamie Winston, cleaning lady extraordinaire.

No, this woman was calm and suave and beautiful. Ginger Rogers was a call girl. I sat there, staring at this woman who wasn't actually me, but at the same time, was exactly me. I pulled the long red haired wig off and hung it up, shaking out my short black hair.

I'd had to adopt the second job when I couldn't pay all my bills by cleaning alone. It wasn't as if we lived in a small town, but my clientele was starting to dwindle. I only had a handful of regulars left. Slowly, in much the same fashion as I put the makeup on, I pulled it off. My eyes didn't look as big or bright, my skin was more uneven, and my lips a pale pink on their own.

Crawling into bed was hard, knowing I'd lost a client. It's what I worked so hard for. It's what I'd put so much effort into my appearance later in the evenings. I set my alarms, knowing I didn't have to be up as early as I had today. Mr. Jones wasn't an early riser obviously, and I was thankful, knowing I could have a few more hours to clean myself up before venturing over to his house.

* * *

_The Enchanted Forest_

I stood on the balcony of my castle, overlooking the great sea to the north and a mountainous valley to the east, leading around to the Dark Forest to the south and the Enchanted Forest farther south. I smiled, watching the quiet valley to the east be itself. I could feel the hum of the dragons below me through my bare feet. They raced through the air so fast, playing with one another that it caused the castle to vibrate sometimes.

Any other person may have complained about the dragons, possibly even calling them disturbing. But they were all my children and children were meant to play and enjoy themselves. I felt no need to scold them or force them to stop.

A small dragon flew up to the balcony, parking itself on the railing. He grinned at me and gave a small roar. He was my youngest dragon, but he was strong and I could tell he'd live a long and healthy life.

"What is it, my love? Why aren't you playing with the others?" I asked him.

The dragon looked a bit defeated; it's normally black scales flashing a hint of green for an instant. He was upset.

"Oh, my dear. Are they making fun of you again?" I asked, stepping over to him to make him look at me.

He coughed a breath of smoke and nodded his head.

"They mean no harm; they just don't understand how deeply you feel things. They will learn to love you when you're stronger. Come tend the garden with me." I told him with a smile, turning to head for the outer doors.

The dragon would launch itself, soaring twenty or thirty yards before landing, and looking back at me to make sure I was still coming. He was barely smaller than me and I knew the other dragons picked on him, but he had a good heart. He'd be a savior; never a terror.

We walked until we got to the garden. I instructed him to singe some of the Strangling Stingers, the viney plants that liked to slowly kill everything else in the garden. Fire was the only way to completely get rid of them.

He whimpered and looked over at me, hanging his head. In his haste to help me, he'd singed part of the rose bush I'd been given as a gift over a hundred years ago.

"Oh, come now. You've not killed it. Merely injured it." I told him, coming over with a pair of pruning sheers. I snipped off the burnt edges and another flower grew back. "See. Maybe it just needed more love than I've been giving it lately."

He nuzzled up against me, asking for reassurance that I wasn't mad.

I smiled down at him, brushing my hand over his scales and scratching him under the chin. "There's not a single thing you could do that would make me mad, Euflamm."

In his mind, he was thinking of an image he'd seen in one of the books I'd read him. It was of a knight attempting to kill a black dragon, but the dragon killed him before the knight had the chance.

I frowned at him. "Killing is not what dragons do. It is your very last resort and if it is the only way, you must make sure as few people as possible die. Listor was a selfish dragon how cared for no one. Would you kill a human if I told you there were other ways of dealing with them?"

He seemed to consider my words before shaking his head. He knew better and I smiled at him.

"Good lad. Now, the daylight hours are draining me of my strength. Go play with your brothers and sisters. Tell them I've gone to lay down and I wish not to be awoken unless there's trouble in the valley. Make sure Telenor is keeping watch." I instructed him.

He nodded quickly before flying off to meet the other dragons.

I smiled, retiring to my bed chambers.


	3. Chapter 2

_Storybrooke_

The next morning was easier than the night before. I'd come to grips with the situation and had shaken it off. There was always someone who wanted sex or a nice word. My services would be needed again at some point.

I gathered up my cleaning supplies, throwing another mop, extra rags, and another bucket of cleaners into the trunk, not knowing what I had to work with at Mr. Jones residence. The drive took me less than ten minutes and I pulled my date book out of the car, bringing it with me up the door. I took a breath and knocked.

From inside, there was a low string of curse words before the door opened. I paused, my mouth falling slightly ajar. He was gorgeous. Short messy black hair sat on top of his head, looking like he'd just rolled out of bed. The beard around his lips and jaw looked like he hadn't shaved in several days. But his eyes were what really stopped me. They were a pale blue, nearly a gray color, highlighted by the red blood shot stains where there should've been white. A smattering of chest hair poked out of the top of a silk shirt that was only held together by two buttons in the middle of the shirt. His left arm hung limply at the shoulder and I noticed he was missing a hand.

"Good morning, Mr. Jones." I told him, remembering I should say something. "I'm Jamie Winston. We talked about your needing someone to unpack your things."

He nodded, as if he remembered, but felt no need to speak. He waved at me and moved away from the door, heading back into the house. I closed the door behind me and noticed the whole house was dark; no lights were on and there were heavy drapes over the windows. He glanced back at me and I saw he was buttoning up the rest of his shirt one handed. "My apologies. I've only been up a short while. My body isn't adjusting very well to the time change."

"You said you were from out of state." I mentioned as we passed a dining room with two boxes on the table.

"Aye. New York." He said, obviously feeling no need to explain as we passed the kitchen. The sink was full of dishes and the counters were disgusting. "I'm rather ashamed. I've never lived this way." He told me, turning to me. "I've recently lost my wife. She was rather good about keeping me in check."

"I'm sorry for your loss." I told him sincerely, wondering if that was the reason he'd traveled so far.

He watched me for a moment. "Coffee?"

I shook my head. "No thank you." I said with a glance around the living room, opposite the kitchen. Four or five boxes sat under the window, one I noticed was marked 'uniform' and another was labeled 'medals to throw at Westchester'.

He nodded, continuing his walk through the house. "I'm aware the house needs cleaned, but I'd like to get the rooms cleaned as they're unpacked instead of all at the end, if that's alright with you."

"Whatever you need. I'm just here to provide my services." I told him.

"So what do you think?" He asked, standing in the bedroom. The bed frame was in pieces, laying in the corner. A queen sized mattress laid on the floor, dirty clothes scattered around it. There were five boxes on the other side of the room and I could see three in the master bathroom.

I walked over to the boxes. They were marked with things like 'clothes', 'jackets', 'bed things'. One was marked Milah in red marker and I assumed that to be his wife's things. The boxes were bigger than the boxes in the kitchen or the dining room. I ducked into the bathroom that held similar sized boxes.

"Are we putting the bed together?" I asked, looking at him.

"I'd like that, yes." He told me.

I nodded. "I can probably have the whole house unpacked today, if you don't mind me staying through the lunch and dinner hour."

He shrugged. "I've nothing going on, nor anywhere to be."

I nodded, thinking it was odd that someone new to town didn't have a job or things to be doing about town. "If you trust me to be left alone, you can feel free to get yourself some coffee."

He smiled at me halfheartedly, but I could see the bags under his pale blue eyes. "I'll return then." And he headed back for the kitchen. I pulled off my jacket, setting it and my date book in the far corner away from the rest of his things after I marked the time I started. I began working on the bed frame and by the time he came back, he helped me get the mattress on the frame.

"So how does one get into the house keeping market?" He spoke up after a long stretch of silence.

I shrugged, cutting open one of the boxes with my pocket knife. We'd already emptied one box of things into the room and he was working on filling his dresser with clothes. "Same way somebody gets into the military; you make a decision." I spoke up.

I heard him stop moving and I turned to look over my shoulder. Mr. Jones was frozen, his hand halfway to the box, his eyes on me. "How did you know I was in the military?" He had gone defensive, moving to stand straight, turning to face me.

Ducking my head, I pushed a strand of hair behind my ear, grabbing for something in the box to put away so I didn't have to look at him. "You have boxes marked uniform and medals in the living room. I was just going out on a limb. I'm sorry to have offended you."

He was silent for a long time and I risked a glance back at him. "It was no offense, merely a surprise. The Royal Marines, to be exact."

I nodded. "I started cleaning houses for my grandma's friends when I was in high school. Old coots who never left their houses, but never had the energy to microwave a hot pocket." I explained, dusting a glass vase and standing to put it on top of the dresser.

"And you've been doing it all these years?" He asked.

I shrugged. "Never found a better way to make money on my own time frame." I told him, despite the fact the lie left a bitter taste on my tongue.

He nodded and I moved back to the box of trinkets. "Milah used to only clean the house if I'd tell her a story the night before. She always wanted adventure, but nothing as exciting as the Royal Marines." Mr. Jones spoke up, seeming to trail off.

"You told her stories of your service?" I asked quietly.

I saw him nod out of the corner of my eye. "Aye, even if it was simply a tale of how my shipmates were lazy or how the commanding officers were together behind our backs."

"They sound like good stories." I told him. I was interested in hearing about him, but I knew it was too soon to ask. And after hearing how his wife had loved the stories, I felt no need to take that from him.

We worked in near silence for the next hour before Killian's stomach imitated the sound of a dying whale. I bit my lip to stifle my giggle at the shocked look on his face.

"I ate but an hour ago." He said, turning to see the clock on the opposite wall. "Or three. Have we been cleaning that long?"

I showed him the last empty box from the bathroom. "Aye matey."

His eyes narrowed at me. "Are you mocking me?"

"Only if you think it's funny. If you don't think it's funny, then I'm absolutely doing an impression of Captain Jack Sparrow." I said in a rush.

He watched me for a moment, making me feel uneasy. "No, it was rather good actually." I gave a small smile, ducking my head and pushing a stray hair behind my ear. "I was thinking about lunch. What say you?" He asked.

I shook my head. "No thanks." I didn't usually eat during work hours. I'd grab something this evening after I'd finished helping him.

He shrugged, stood and left the room. He reappeared after only a moment. "Don't suppose you could start in the storage room? There's only a handful of boxes in there."

I nodded, pulling myself off the clean carpet. "As you wish."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, love." He said quietly before ducking back out of the room.

I paused where I was for a moment. Had the widower just made a pass at me? What? No. Definitely not. I grabbed my water bottle and made my way through the house, past the front door and into the storage room. I stilled at the spare bedroom that was right next to the storage room. The spare bedroom was in pristine condition.

Glancing back at the kitchen, I noticed Killian on the phone. I stepped into the room and was floored. There were clean sheets on the bed, clean pillow cases, a dresser and desk and the carpet had recently been vacuumed as well; devoid of any boxes or moving dust.

Why would someone set up a spare bedroom in their home, but not set up their own?

The thought was fleeting as I decided it was none of my business how he set up his house. It was, after all, his home. I got to work putting decorative mermaids on the wooden shelf that had been hung for them in the storage room. I dusted and cleaned them as I went, tuning out the sound of Killian on the phone in the other room.

A knock on the door startled me and made me jump, dropping the duster I'd been holding. It was a good thing I hadn't gotten another glass mermaid out.

"Forgive me. I wasn't aware you were easy to startle." Mr. Jones said, looking apologetic.

"No, no you're fine. I was in my own little world. Sorry." I said, reaching to pick the duster back up as he held out a paper take out bag. "What's that?"

"Lunch, I believe. I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I just got you a cheeseburger and fries." He told me, propped up against the door.

"I'm not hungry." I told him, despite the fact I'd forgotten to eat breakfast this morning.

He stood there, watching me without blinking. To prove my resolve, I picked up another mermaid and dusted it carefully before putting it back on the shelf. Still, he stood against the wall with a bag of delicious smelling greasy food in his hand.

"You're quite stubborn, aren't you?" He asked.

I shrugged. "I came here to work, not eat."

"Aye, but what good does it do me if I must drive you to the hospital because of it?" He asked.

I stared at the box for a moment before looking at him. I wanted to ask why he'd care. I was just here to unpack boxes.

He sighed loudly, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. "My wife was the most compassionate person I'd ever met on this Godforsaken planet. I suppose you noticed the spare room set up, despite no visitors."

I nodded.

"My wife was constantly bringing home a stray person or animal, letting them spend a week with us while they got on their feet and got jobs or got a house. She never turned down someone who asked for help. Were she here, watching you help me unpack boxes and you refusing to eat, merely because of a bit of work, she'd have slapped me right across the face." He explained.

I took a breath. "I forgot to eat breakfast this morning."

"Even more a reason to eat lunch." He told me with a smile, turning to leave the room. I followed him into the dining room, where he'd moved the boxes so he could lay out the food. I sat across from him at the table as he dug into his fast food.

"The Burger Palace doesn't deliver." I spoke up, realizing he'd never left the house.

"They do when you offer the boy taking your order $50." He said, taking a bite of his burger.

"Do you do that a lot?" I asked him, curiously.

He shrugged. "Milah always told me money was worth nothing if it's not shared."

I wanted to ask how she'd passed. I wanted to know she'd gone quickly from him, instead of being drained while he watched. But it wasn't my business, I reminded myself. It wasn't my place to ask questions.

Killian sighed loudly, making me look at him. "I've been trying to avoid it all morning, but I cannot anymore. What happened?"

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "I'm sorry?"

He gave me a hard look. "Who hit you?"

Had my makeup worn off? Could he already see the red mark that refused to leave my face this morning? "Nobody. I'm clumsy. I completely walked into a door, face first."

"Obviously." He said, slightly condescendingly.

I looked up at him and narrowed my eyes. "Why does it bother you so much?"

He looked like I'd slapped him. "Why does it not bother you?"

I was surprised at his words, backing off the offensive. I shrugged slowly, chewing over my food. "That's the way it's always been."

We were silent, eating our food for the next set of minutes. Mr. Jones looked as if he was milling the words over harder than he should've been. "You've never had someone love you?" He asked suddenly.

I looked up at him and there was an emotion hidden deep in them that I couldn't place. "I never said that. I've loved and been loved. Just… obviously not in the way you have."

We didn't talk as we finished up our meals. He cleared our trash and kindly asked me to return to the back room. He worked alongside me, unpacking boxes and putting things where he wanted them.

The more I thought over Killian Jones, the more of an enigma he became to me. He was obviously not a people person, as I could tell from the blunt remarks and curses that fell loosely from his mouth at the drop of a hat. Despite having lost his wife, he didn't seem as deeply grieved as I would think one would be losing a love. But I'd never lost a love, so maybe I was romanticizing it.

When we finished the back room, he'd told me he'd unpack the living room if I'd be alright with doing the dining room on my own. Of course I said yes, getting to work on the china that went into the far cabinet.

By the time he finished with the living room, I was nearly done in the dining room. I didn't even notice him until I turned around to see him leaning on the frame of the wall. I narrowed my eyes at him. "Why do you insist on sneaking up on me?"

"I wasn't aware I was. Should I wear a bell then?" He asked, a hint of humor in his serious face.

"Considering how much you fidget, I'd probably yank it off you and throw it into the street." I said before I could think about it. I looked up, mouth falling open.

Mr. Jones looked much more impressed than I expected. "You've been bashful and quiet all day. I appreciate the remark."

I felt the need to clarify. "I don't usually talk to clients that way. I'm really sorry."

He still smiled. "I'd rather you talked to me like that than not at all. The house is quiet enough when I'm alone."

I ducked my head, wondering if I'd really been quiet all day. "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing, love." He told me sternly.

Biting my lip was the only way for another apology to not spew from my mouth.

Something changed in his look and I couldn't place what it was. He shifted his weight on his feet and he glanced away from me, taking a breath. "You're quite the character, aren't you, Miss Winston?"

"It's Jamie, Mr. Jones. My mom was Miss Winston in between her three marriages." I informed him.

"Then by all means, I insist you call me Killian." He spoke up.

I wasn't sure what to say. It was hard to force the image of him taking a breath through those perfect pale lips of his out of my mind. I turned back to the box with the china, unwrapping another plate from the bubble wrap.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" Killian asked.

I repeated the action of unwrapping a plate. "I actually have a date this evening." I told him, as I'd had my client from the night before call and apologize, hoping I could meet him again tonight.

"Lucky bugger." Killian said.

I turned to him, rolling my eyes and shaking my head. "How long were you in the Marines?" I asked, hoping to direct the conversation away from me while I finished my task.

"Nearly eight years." He said, quietly.

"Why did you choose to not re-up?" I asked.

He was silent for a moment and I turned to him, seeing pain written on his face. I took a breath when I saw the sadness flood his eyes. "My brother."

I felt my heart break in my chest. "He… died?" I barely whispered. The words didn't want to fall out of my mouth.

Killian nodded, glancing over his shoulder into the living room like someone was watching him. "It was always his dream to go in together, get out together. I guess we did."

Something pulled me, moving me around the table. I hesitated, but gently set my hand on his shoulder, making him look at me. "I'm sorry." I murmured.

He gave me a sad smile, setting his hand on mine. A spark ignited in my chest, like a fire starting. It was such a surprise, I gasped. Killian's eyes widened and his lips fell apart.

Shock and surprise made me take a step back away from him, but as soon as I did, I felt cold. "What…?"

Killian shook his head and despite the wideness of his eyes, he swallowed hard. "Static electricity, I'm sure. I drag my feet on the carpet. Excuse me." He said quickly, leaving the room.

I looked down at my hand that had touched his and it felt warm, despite the lack of him being there anymore. I shook my head. "Static electricity." I repeated, moving back to the box with the china.

It only took me another twenty minutes before I finished the box with the China. When I stepped out of the dining room to find Killian, there was a note and an envelope tacked to the master bedroom door which was closed. I pulled it off and read it quietly to myself.

_Jamie, forgive my behavior. I hope you'll not get the wrong impression of me, but I've found myself suddenly unable to leave my room. I'm not sure how long it will take you to finish the unpacking of the China, but hopefully this should cover it.  
__Feel free to see yourself out when you've finished. When I'm feeling better, I'll ring you to see what your schedule looks like next week for a proper cleaning.  
__Sincerely yours,  
__Killian.__  
_

I opened the envelope and blinked rapidly at the check he'd written to me. I'd earned roughly $90 dollars, even taking out time for the lunch he'd bought me. But the check was written for $200. I was willing to waive the $50 consultation fee, as this wasn't my usual job, but even if I'd counted it in the math, he'd still over paid me.

Collecting my datebook and jacket from the dining room table, I wrote out a receipt for him, showing that he had $110 credit towards his next cleaning. I made another copy for my records and pulled my jacket on, showing myself out after collecting the minimal cleaning supplies I'd needed to use.

I sat in the car, watching to see if any lights turned on, or if he appeared to venture out of his room. Nothing for ten minutes and I wondered if he was alright. Despite my better judgement, I pulled out my phone and found the number I'd saved under his name. I pulled up a new text and quickly typed out a short message.

'Thank you for the check. I locked the door behind me. There's $110 credit on your account. I hope you feel better.'

I tossed the phone in the passenger seat and made my way home. I left the cleaning supplies in the car, feeling drained from the day. I grabbed my date book and my phone before going inside. Shadow meowed loudly, making me aware of how much she missed me. I picked her up and let her climb on my shoulders while I set my phone on the counter with my other things.

A run through the shower later, my phone dinged from the counter. I made my mind up from the other side of the room; if it was Allen calling to cancel after he'd already hit me, I was dropping him as a client forever.

Killian's name was a pleasant surprise, but a surprise none the less.

'There is absolutely a $0 credit on my account. A little rum to wash down some unwanted memories and I'm right as rain. Enjoy your date, love. I think you quite deserve it.'

I bit my lip, re-reading the text before hitting reply. 'Goodnight Killian' was all I sent back as I headed for my room to pick out a dress.

* * *

I'd decided on another black number, slightly more form fitting and a pair of red wedges to match my lipstick. I was a bit early, but I figured he might see my commitment to the deal if I came early when I'd shown up late previously.

Allen appeared and smiled, as if he hadn't been so mean the night before. "Ginger, you look ravishing." He said, eyeing me plainly.

I nodded, deciding on a shyer approach. Most aggressive guys went after the deer in the headlights and although I was far from it, I could give them a little of the shy girl they were looking for.

"A shy little thing. That's just fine. We'll have a nice dinner and then maybe I can show you how to loosen up around people." He said slyly, whispering the second half of his sentence.


	4. Chapter 3

_The Enchanted Forest_

I awoke, feeling as though I'd slept for a few years, instead of hours. I groaned at the feeling, but as I woke more, I could sense excitement among my children. I sat up in bed, pushing off the covers to see Euflamm standing at the doorway. He'd been told not to enter my bed chambers unless there was an emergency.

"Euflamm? What is it?" I asked, standing up.

A vision of an injured man flashed through his mind into mine and he gave a whimper. He hated seeing the humans in trouble. He had always wanted to meet one, but after the last encounter my pod of dragons had with humans, I resigned them with little to no communication with humans. It was too dangerous for my babies.

"He's hurt? This far into the Dark Forest?" I asked, feeling the same fright and urgency I felt fifty-six years before; the last time I'd lost one of my children.

Euflamm nodded.

"Why did an older dragon not wake me?" I asked. Euflamm was my youngest. He shouldn't even known of a human in the woods, let alone be informing me.

He whined and ducked his head. He showed me how he'd been the first one to spot the injured man, before even Telenor did. The other dragons did not believe him and therefore would not wake me.

"They will be reprimanded. But this is no place for such a young part of the pod. Please go back to your nest. I will come get you when it's safe." I told him, making my way through the room and into the long hallway to the balcony.

He whimpered behind me, letting me know he didn't want to go to the nest.

I turned to him. "I adore you, young one. But I must keep you safe. You remember how my heart broke when we lost Gander to the human world. I would never wish such a terrible fate on my youngest. Please go back to the nest so I shan't worry about you."

He ducked his head, knowing I was right and took off out of the balcony, soaring to the rocks below where the nests lay.

I sighed, feeling my wings elongate from my back and spread wide. I rarely used them unless I needed to, but I'd take no dragon along with me to see the human if he was indeed truly injured. I pushed away from the stone, feeling light and free as I flew to the watch tower.

Telenor was the oldest dragon in my pod, nearing his six thousandth year. He was my most trusted advisor and I enjoyed his companionship.

"Telenor, I hear we have a guest?" I asked, moving to land next to him.

He nodded, throwing out a claw to point in the direction of where I assumed the injured man to be. And there he was, leaning against a tree, struggling to breathe. I could see the arrow wound in his arm from the tower, despite the fact he was a good five miles away.

"I will check on him. Return the pod to their nests. I will heal him and send him on his way, but you're aware of how humans think themselves." I told him.

He nodded, obviously understanding my words. He flew off and I knew he'd round the other dragons up before I touched down. I flapped my wings, flying towards the man, making sure to stay low, so he wouldn't know which direction I came from. The forest was thick and a human would hardly be able to see a few yards in front of them in any direction, but I could smell the blood from his wound as soon as I got closer to the ground.

When I got within a mile of the man, I circled around him, landing on the north side of him. I tucked my wings away; sure he'd know who I was without them. I touched down within a quarter mile of him, following the smell of his blood and the groans I heard every once in a while.

I broke through a set of trees, finding him instantly. He'd moved only a short ways from where he was before and he still was struggling to breathe. He looked over at me and I paused. Most of the humans that ventured into my part of the dark woods where big, strong men who looked to kill a dragon.

This man, however, was barely taller than me and although he looked strong for a human, he wasn't bulky like most men I'd seen before. He was fluid in his motions, even as he drew his sword to me. His dark hair hung limply, as if he'd been traveling this way for quite some time. I could smell charcoal on his hands and the smell of the sea was engrained in his skin and leather clothes.

"Few pirates venture this far onto land, let alone into my woods." I mentioned, moving slowly around him.

"Stay where you are, witch. I mean you no harm." He told me, his left arm hanging limply at his side.

"Why are you in my forest?" I asked him.

His breathing was still uneasy and I didn't want him to pass out before I could get information out of him. "I'm running from evil men."

"And why should this concern me?" I asked him bluntly.

"Because this," he said, pausing to lay down his sword and reach into his shirt. "Is a map that leads right to your nesting grounds."

I laughed. "No human has ever been able to find my nesting grounds."

"I never said the map was made by a human. It was made by Rumpelstiltskin." The man said.

All traces of humor were wiped from my form. "Why do you wish to find the nesting grounds?"

He shook his head and his breathing became more labored. "I don't. I desperately want to destroy the map. But only dragon's fire can. It's inked on dragon hide. The men who are looking for me, they wish your dragons for their own hunt."

I watched him carefully. "And what of you, injured sailor? What do you wish?"

"I wish the dragons to live longer than I shall ever dream. Dragons are the most holy of magic and I cannot bear to see them suffer." He told me.

"Tell me your name, pirate." I spoke up.

He let out a cough and I was curious if he'd punctured a lung along the way. "Killian."

"I will heal you if you give me the map." I told him.

His eyes went wide. "You can heal me?"

I smiled kindly at him, stepping closer. "I am the Dragon Mother. My magic is limitless."

He nodded quickly. "Please." He said, handing over the map.

I laid my hand on his chest and focused my energy on finding and repairing his wounds. He had broken three ribs, his left arm in two spots and there was a crack in his sternum. When I pulled away, he was healed.

He gasped, looking up at me. "Thank you." He said in a whoosh of breath. I turned to look at the map. That damn Rumpelstiltskin. It was an accurate drawing of where my grounds were.

"Have you memorized this map?" I asked him, knowing I'd have to move the nests regardless.

He shook his head. "I could barely read it."

I smirked. Elfish was a dead language to most, even now. I was thankful to Rumpelstiltskin for at least that. "I will aid your crossing of my forest if you promise to leave."

A noise cracked behind me and my senses flared. I turned to see a black dragon hiding behind a tree. I'd been so upset about finding the map, that I'd missed my child sneaking up on me.

I looked back to Killian quickly, moving to stand between the dragon and the man.

The Captain paused. "Is that…"

"You will leave my forest." I bellowed at him, the force of my voice pushing him back a step.

"I mean you no harm!" Killian said, waving his hands. "I just want to make sure that map gets destroyed. I can't see anything happen to those dragons."

I glared at him, sucking in a deep breath. I felt the fire ignite in my lungs and I pushed it out, burning the scrap of dragon hide. It turned purple and then green before floating into blue ashes on the ground.

He watched with wide eyes. "Of all the people to meet along my travels, the Dragon Mother ranked nearly among Thor and The Evil Queen."

I took another step back towards Euflamm. "You must leave my forest and never come back." I told him, pushing my wings from my skin and shaking out the large brown wings.

Hook's mouth fell open, staring at me. "We're flying?"

"We certainly aren't walking a hundred miles." I told him, reaching for him.

"I… have a bit of a fear of heights." He sputtered.

I growled at him, losing my patience. "Then close your eyes." I told him, diving at him and grabbing his shoulder before flipping around on my wings and flying just high enough off the ground that his feet wouldn't catch on any stray roots or small trees. I commanded Euflamm to follow close, simply so I could keep track of him better.

It took longer than I wanted and much more noise from the sailor than I'd have liked, but I set him on the ground, touching down a few yards away.

He sputtered and coughed, looking like he was half dead. "That was… was terrible."

"You're currently in the Enchanted Forest. If I find you in the Dark Forest again, I will have to take severe measures. Do well not to find yourself in my woods again, sailor." I told him sternly, hoping he could see the orange in my eyes clearly.

"Forgive me, Dragon Mother. I thank you for the safe travels and healing my wounds." He said, bowing to me like I was a queen.

I turned, commanding the dragon behind me to follow my lead. He flew close to me and I could tell he was sorry for making me mad. I landed in the guard tower, telling Telenor to get the oldest of our kind still in the pod to move the nesting grounds farther out, in the opposite direction the map had indicated.

Telenor communicated his concerns about leaving the watch tower at a time of such urgency. I reassured him I would stand watch, keeping an eye over all of my children while he helped calm the younger ones. He took off, leaving me along on the perch. It felt good to be watching the forest, although I hated the circumstances came about.

* * *

_Storybrooke_

I texted Allen the following evening. I'd made him sign a contract, a set of rules, if you will. One of my main rules that was never to be broken was the one about contact. You could use and abuse me however you pleased, as long as you didn't leave a mark that lasted longer than twelve hours. This was an automatic breach of the contract and it was even a curtsey of me to tell him the error of his ways at all.

Needless to say, my text was met with a string of phone calls, yelling and cursing at me, calling me every name I'd ever heard of and then some. I was used to the usual 'tramp' or 'whore'. I had a tendency to have thick skin.

But his constant string of foul words left me exhausted. I sighed upon looking in the mirror. There was a rough purple, green bruise around my throat and both my hips looked similar. It was Friday night and I was home alone. I was supposed to have a client, but I'd called, coming up with an emergency story that had to delay our meeting for three more days. I expected that to be long enough time the bruises would be gone, or much easier to cover.

* * *

Two days later, a text from Killian arrived on my phone. I'd woken up to it and the time stamp on the message was three in the morning.

'Tuesdays and Thursdays work the best for cleanings. Unsure of your schedule. Please get back to me as soon as possible.'

Once I got out of bed and made a pot of coffee, I checked my date book, absentmindedly scratching on the black cat. Groggily still, I pulled out my phone. 'Thursday will work for the first cleaning, as I'm not sure what all you need done. Free all day.'

I hit send and pulled the box of cereal out of the cupboard above the coffee pot, pouring myself a bowl. I returned to the counter and my phone dinged. Killian's name popped up and I wondered what was so important he was awake at nine on a Saturday.

'Best come earlier rather than later. I fear the first will be the worst.'

I smiled stupidly at his wording. The dumbest possible way for him to word something and that's what he sends. I shook my head. 'If you think you'll be up, will come at ten again.' I'd barely set the device down when it binged again.

'If you're mocking me, job well done. It's a date then.'

I tilted my head, considering his words and remembering how my cereal was getting soggy. He didn't mean a real date right? Could cleaning someone's house for money be considered a date? I'd gotten laid for money, was that a date? I sighed, wondering how long it would take for Killian to find out cleaning wasn't my only income.


	5. Chapter 4

_Storybrooke_

I gritted my teeth. Standing on the step ladder was painful. The stool Killian owned was almost four inches too short for me to be dusting the ceiling fans the way I was trying to. I was stretching much more than any honest housekeeper should have been.

"You alright, love?" Killian asked, coming around the corner.

I let out a small breath as I stepped off the stool. "Yeah, fine."

"You don't look fine." He informed me.

"Your ladder is just a touch too short. Or I'm too short." I said, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in my ankle from the excessive stretching.

"Nonsense. A person is never too short." He told me. "What are you trying to do?"

"Dust your ceiling fans. They're disgusting." I informed him.

After a short moment of consideration, he nodded and agreed. "Aye, a bit nasty. We'll have to procure a new ladder."

I reached for the pad and pen he'd lent me to start my shopping list of everything he needed for me to completely clean his house. He had zero cleaners in the house and three wash rags.

"Shall we make a run to town then?" He asked suddenly.

"Uh, what for?" I asked, feeling stupid when his eyes met mine.

He smirked and I wanted to know what he was thinking about. "You have a list, do you not?"

"Yeah, of course. Cleaning supplies, obviously." I said, turning my back to him and acting like I was rearranging papers. "If you have time to drive me into town. I don't have a truck to haul all of it."

"I'll get my coat." And he was off to the bedroom.

I took a deep breath and shook my head, trying to clear it. "You're an idiot. Stop." I whispered.

"Ready, love?" Killian asked, startling me. "One day I won't do that."

The black leather jacket that now graced his shoulders made me pause. How did he pull off everything so well? "Yeah, I hope so. You thought paying the bill for starvation was bad. Wait 'til you get the one for my heart attack." I said before I could think, feeling like if I talked, the part of my brain that kept thinking the looks he gave me meant something would die off suddenly.

He just gave his trademark smirk and opened the door to the garage for me. I climbed into the passenger seat of his truck, wondering if he'd bought it when he bought the house, or if he'd had it before, in New York.

It was a 1981 Ford half ton with four on the floor. It wasn't exactly something I could see him driving very often.

He rolled the beast over and carefully backed it out of the garage, using the clicker to close it again. I gave him basic directions to the hardware store, as he hadn't been paying attention on his way into town and by the way he worded his sentences, he hadn't been brave enough to venture back out.

Once inside, I grabbed a shopping basket, asking him if he had an opinion on cleaners or scents. For the most part, he never spoke up, except to tell me he'd prefer his house not to smell like a field of flowers. I smiled, shaking my head as I got apple pie scented air fresheners.

"I adore apple pie. Did you know that?" He asked, trailing behind me.

"I didn't." I told him honestly. "I picked them up because it's one of my favorite smells."

He nodded, following me along.

"Jamie! How are things?" Marco asked.

I smiled at the old man that ran the hardware store. "Things are alright. How about you?"

"As good as can be expected. Who is your friend?" Marco asked.

"Oh, Marco. This is Killian Jones. He's new in town." I said, moving out of the way for them to meet.

"A pleasure." Killian said, although I could tell he was less than enthused about meeting people.

"I'm glad a strong man like you is watching over our girl." Marco said and I suddenly wanted to die.

"What? No. Marco, he's not… he's not my boyfriend. He's a client." I said, stumbling over the words while holding up the hand basket. "I'm cleaning his house."

Marco made an 'o' with his mouth, but there was a trace of something in his face, making his eyes crinkle. "Of course, dear. Let me know if I can get you anything." He said, patting my arm before walking away.

"And step ladders are over here. You have a two foot one at the house. I was thinking of getting a four foot one, just in case? That way I can reach everything I need to." I spoke up, rounding the corner and looking at the selection.

"So quick to brush me off as a suitor." Killian said quietly, gazing at the ladders with me.

"That's because you're a client." I told him, making sure to keep focused on the ladders.

"You wouldn't consider an evening with me, since you're working for me?" He asked, still quietly.

"This one will work." I spoke up, undoing the bungee cords Marco used to keep the ladders from tipping. I pulled it off the rack before snapping the cord back into place.

"Do you usually ignore a question you wish not to answer?" Killian asked.

I sighed, looking over at him. "Alright, if we have to have this talk here, then fine. Look, you're incredibly attractive. I find you very visually appealing. But you're a widower. I don't know how long ago she died or what from. I don't know how deep that grief stems. And me, I've never lost anybody like that. My parents died after I was barely legal to live on my own. They fought and were always mad at each other so my grief was little and short lived."

Killian watched me closely as I continued.

"You lost the love of your life and I can see it in your eyes, you're a little cracked. Me, I'm bent and twisted, fraying at the edges. I do what I have to, to survive. I don't want to get in with you, if you're just trying to ease the pain of loss." I didn't know what happened, but I locked eyes with him sometime during my talk and I couldn't let go of them.

He watched me for a moment before a slow, sad smile rose on his lips. "Although it's not what I had hoped to hear, a harsh truth is better than silence." He was thanking me again, for saying something, instead of wading around in swallow waters.

I nodded. "But that's not to say I don't want you as a client. I enjoy your company and you're a breath of fresh air. Let's just… let's just try that for a while and see how we work out, alright?"

The sadness in his smile faded and I could see that's what he wanted. "Aye." He said with a slight head nod, taking the ladder from my hands. "What else do we need, love?"

* * *

It only took a few minutes for us to finish and get back to the house. Killian was more than eager to help me with whatever I needed and I wondered if it was just so that I'd stick around. I told him he could relax after helping me unload everything while I cleaned. He ended up in the living room, flicking on some game show to fill the silence.

I went about dusting the house until I got to the cabinet he'd put his military things in. I stalled out, looking over his uniform. At the end of his sleeves, there was three lines and then a loopy-de-loop and the shoulders held three diamond shaped pins in line above a golden 'RM' which I could only imagine stood for Royal Marines.

"I was a Captain." Killian said. Despite his sudden proximity and me not knowing he was there, I wasn't startled this time. "That's what the insignia means."

"Captain Killian Jones. It has a nice ring to it." I told him, still trying to absorb the contents of the case his uniform was sealed in.

"Aye. It usually helped me get a lady or two." He commented.

I scoffed. "Or ten."

"Why do you say that?" He asked, curiosity lacing his voice.

I rolled my eyes, looking at him. "Girls love a man in uniform. Makes us weak in the knees." I told him, putting on a little bit of a Valley Girl voice for his benefit.

He smiled. "In that case, the mayor is putting on a Military Ball at the beginning of the month. You should accompany me."

"Killian Jones, the dancing Royal Captain? I'd kill to see such a spectacle." I informed him with a smile.

"Well that won't be necessary. I'll get you a ticket." He told me.

I watched him for a moment, trying to see if there was a trace of something in his face. "You're being serious."

"I am wholeheartedly, love." Killian said.

"I can't dance." I informed him, thinking this would be an important part of a ball.

He smiled as if he expected this answer from me. "I'll teach you, of course."

"Can you even dance?" I asked him, watching him carefully.

He grinned widely. "My mother gave my brother and I lessons in our days as lads. She told us a man who couldn't dance was a man unworthy of marriage."

Was this really happening? Killian wanted to take me to a ball? And he was going to teach me to dance? The back of my mind told me this was too good to be true, but I ignored it. "Alright." I said finally. "You teach me to dance and I'll knock $20 off each cleaning until the ball. But if I can't actually get it before the ball, then I'm not going."

"A stubborn thing you are indeed. It's a deal. Shall we kiss on it?" He grinned.

Another eye roll and I turned away from him, continuing dusting. I heard him fall back into his chair and he mumbled along with the game show for the rest of my time in the living room. After I'd dusted, I cleaned the disgusting kitchen, swept the tile floors, vacuumed the carpet and mopped the tile at the very end, not considering that I'd have to leave. The tile in the entrance way was still wet when I finished. I stood there, staring at it, hoping I could make it dry faster.

"I don't think it'll dry any faster just because you're staring at it, love." Killian said.

I moved my head back and forth. "Yeah, I know. I don't always plan these things so well."

"How about a spot of lunch?" He asked.

"I'm fine." I told him, moving to put the mop away in the cleaning closet. A timer dinged in the kitchen and I turned my head, smelling something. I took a deep breath. "Is that… grilled cheese?"

"Indeed. A guilty pleasure of mine when I'm avoiding rum." He told me, pulling a pan out of the oven.

"Do you drink often?" I asked quietly, leaning on the wall as I watched him plate the sandwiches and pull a bag of chips from the cupboard.

He shrugged. "Only when I have something to forget." I nodded, knowing the feeling myself. "Do you…" He paused, like he didn't know how to word his question.

"I tried to drown my demons, but the fuckers learned to swim." I told him, knowing he'd appreciate the bluntness of the statement.

He nodded, not being fazed by his most favorite curse. "I suppose I keep trying in hopes they'll get tired of treading water." He handed me a plate and I led the way into the dining room.

"Grieving for my parents was the most difficult. It was… hard to say the least. It led me down some unsavory paths." I told him.

He nodded. "After my wife died, I got a bit more recreational with my grief."

I felt for him. I'd turned to drugs after I found out both my parents were dead. "I was on cocaine for a while."

Killian looked up from his sandwich, surprised.

I nodded, ducking my head. "Dr. Hopper told me it's okay to tell people if I think they won't judge me. He says its not a bad secret, like killing someone or something. It's just a bad choice you made in the past that you decided to fix."

"He sounds wise, your doctor." Killian told me, taking a bite of your sandwich.

I pulled my datebook closer, finding the card I kept for him in the back pocket. "You should have this. I know it's hard talking to someone, but sometimes it's freeing." I told him, sliding the card across the table.

He looked at it for a moment like it might bite him before he picked it up. "I too was doing cocaine for a time."

I nodded. "I'd rather wake up hungover than not being able to sleep because I was hallucinating."

Killian nodded. "We're connected then, you and I."

I bit my lip a little and knew I couldn't deny the fact. I nodded, taking a bite of my sandwich. "There's worse things to be connected over than recovery."

Killian smiled. "Indeed there is."

We ate in silence and I helped him do dishes when we finished. The kitchen was clean again and it made me smile. "So what time next week? Or do you want to make this an every other week thing?" I asked, leaning against the table as I flipped through my date book.

"Every week is fine. I'd hate the place to get out of hand." He told me.

I nodded. "How about we just stick to Thursdays? I don't usually have very many clients that day." I said, noticing I had two affairs in the evening hours next week.

"What are those marks?" He asked, looking over my shoulder.

I had used a red pen instead of my normal blue and had simply wrote 'R 6:30' for Roger and 'L 9:30' for Lenard. "Oh, um. TV shows I watch. Ralphie's Home Cooking and Lady Luck." I knew it was a lame excuse, but I'd never had anybody in my date book before.

"Huh." He said, gazing a little harder than I'd have liked, but I didn't want to be suspicious by closing in too quickly. "So all the red marks are shows then?"

I nodded. "I like to change it up a bit." I told him, closing the book and putting it in my bag. "Thanks for lunch. So Next Thursday, same time?" I asked.

He nodded, watching me carefully. "If you wish to talk-"

I cut him off before he could finish. "Nothing to talk about. Have a good night." I told him, gathering my coat and heading for the door. I climbed in my car and didn't even put my seatbelt on before I was speeding away from the curb.

When I put the car in park, I let my breath out. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to tell him. But if he had any kind of romantic intentions, I didn't want him to see that side of me. I didn't want him to see the wig or the tight dresses reserved for only paying customers. I sighed, trying to rationalize what I was even doing still in my car ten minutes later.

My phone dinged and I pulled it out of my pocket. Killian's name made me hesitate, but I opened the text regardless.

'I apologize if I offended you. I meant no such gesture. Please forgive me.'

I groaned, leaning forward to hit my head on the steering wheel. I sat there for another five minutes, considering what I could possibly send back to make him think better of me and I came up with nothing.

Pulling myself out of the car seemed to take more strength than it should've and I was greeted by my friendly black cat when I opened the door. I picked her up and put her on my shoulder while I headed to the bedroom. She jumped off and I changed into sweats and an old tee before falling into the couch.

The doorbell rang and I blinked a couple times, wondering who on earth would be coming to see me. I opened the door, standing behind it. A lump caught in my throat, nearly choking me. "Mr. Gold. You don't normally make house calls."

"Indeed I don't. But I noticed you're within a week of your rent being due. You were nearly late the last two months. Thought I'd drop in and remind you." He told me.

I nodded. "I uh… I actually have it now, if you'd like. I mean, since you're already here."

He smiled, but it was a kind of grim, slimy smile. "I think that'd be best."

I nodded. "Um, you can come on in. I'll be right back. And uh, be careful of Shadow. She doesn't like strangers." I told him, ducking into the bedroom.

I pulled out the envelope I kept my stash money in from clients and counted out seven hundred dollars. I returned to see him in a staring contest with my cat, who had her ears back and teeth bared. "Sorry about her." I said, setting the money on the counter and picking her up.

"No trouble." He said, counting the money out. "Lots of twenties here."

"I give my clients a 10% discount if they pay in cash." I told him. It was a lie, but it didn't matter. I had the money for him and he shouldn't really care where I got it from.

"For the cleanings, of course." He said with a small glance in my direction, telling me he implied much more.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Of course the cleanings. I only have one job."

He nodded, and I could almost hear his voice saying, 'if that's what you want to tell yourself, deary.' He turned and headed for the door, leaving without another word.


End file.
